Sanctuary
by northernwindx
Summary: "I don't like people. I am not an exception. I don't like myself either." Post Mockingjay.


**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games or these characters - but I wish I did!**

* * *

I don't like people. I am not an exception. I don't like myself either.

In the days following the rebellion, I don't keep track of anything or anybody. I desperately need to spend every second of time alone in my room. I was never going to run around the districts when everything ended, claiming I was their superhero. No, of course not. My main concern was finishing off what had to be done and then resuming my normal life. That's what I want to do.

But Greasy Sae visits me daily, sometimes along with her granddaughter, and cooks for me. I usually tell her I'm not hungry when she goes to my room and asks, but she insists on making food anyway. I try not to feel too bad when I realize she doesn't have fresh game anymore. But hunting for her was never my responsibility.

I leave my room and eat whatever she cooks up before thanking her and going back to my personal sanctuary.

This is how most of my days go for a long, long time. I haven't spoken to Gale or Peeta or Haymitch or my mother or anyone else. Gale and my mother are gone, and I don't feel like seeing Haymitch or Peeta anytime soon.

_Peeta..._

I sometimes wonder why he stopped me from taking the nightlock. Did he pity me, did he want me to live and suffer, or did he finally remember everything in that moment that was supposed to be my last?

..No.

He didn't.

I don't think he'll ever remember everything. Maybe his memories won't always be a blur, but the effects of the hijacking just might always be present for the rest of his life.

It kills me, but there's nothing I can do about that.

One day in particular, Greasy Sae's granddaughter tries speaking to me, but I avoid conversation with her. It hurts too much. She reminds me so much of.. Her. Prim. I try not to think about my sister. I try my hardest. But it's unavoidable. There's nothing I can do about that, either. She will always be on my mind.

"Are you sure you're all right in here?"

"I'm fine," I reply. She's standing in the doorway, staring at me. I cannot read the expression on her face.

"You haven't come out all day."

"I just don't feel very well today."

"Well, um, my grandmother says to tell you goodbye. There's food on the table if you're hungry. Feel better, Katniss." She says the last part with a little edge. With that, she leaves. I suddenly remember that she's been visiting me for a while (although we haven't spoken, I've seen her around) and I don't even know her name. I make a note of it to ask her next time I see her, if I feel like it. Or if there is a next time.

I hear the front door of my house close a few minutes later. This is my cue to go to sleep.

But apparently, sleeping isn't that easy. I'm in my bed, my eyes are closed, and I'm as relaxed as possible, but my body is refusing to sleep. I think I got used to naturally preventing rest. Even though my eyelids always feel heavy, sleep means nightmares. Without Peeta there to comfort me, it doesn't sound so appealing.

I don't know how many hours I'm just there, existing, but soon enough, I hear my front door open again.

The first thing that comes to mind is that it's too late for Greasy Sae to be here. She only comes in the mornings, and she just left a few hours ago.

Someone is in my house.

I listen intently to see if the person is approaching. The footsteps ascending up the staricase confirms that they are. Without a second thought, I jump out of my bed, surprised my muscles aren't refusing, and grab my bow and a single arrow. I position it at the door. It opens slowly. All the lights are off, and I can barely see the face of the person as the door opens a few centimeters. The tension is killing me, but I stand my ground.

And there he is.

Peeta Mellark.

He's staring at me like he's my fresh prey and looks so genuinely terrified that I'm momentarily distracted. That's when I remember to drop the bow.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was you," I tell him hastily. He's still staring at me. The air is getting thicker.

"I thought you were going to kill me," he admits quietly. I don't blame him. But I don't blame myself, either.

"You just came into my home unannounced," I say. "I didn't know who it was. It could have been anybody," I continue to defend myself, but it's not needed. He knows I didn't mean to hurt him.

"I didn't know if you moved out of the district or not. It's like you've gone missing." I can't tell if the curving of his lips is meant to be a grimace or a smile. I don't even know when he's joking anymore.

I suddenly can't even look at him. My eyes are fixated on the floor. I feel his gaze on me.

"Haymitch said he hadn't seen any signs of you," Peeta says. I know Haymitch must have lied to him. There's no way he couldn't see my lights on during the day or Greasy Sae coming here every morning. Unless he's too drunk to focus, which isn't impossible.

He adds, "And when I told him I hadn't seen you either, he suggested that I come here. Haymitch was never good at making decisions, was he?"

It takes a moment for me to decipher what he means. "Are you saying you regret coming here?"

He avoids the question. "You look like you hate me. You've been acting like it, too."

My jaw almost drops. I glare at him, my mood suddenly changing. I don't know what I feel, but it's not pleasant. "You should know better than that!" I feel like I'm reprimanding a child, but it's true. "I could never hate you!"

He cringes at the loud tone of my voice.

"I'm sorry. Don't ever say that to me."

"It's the truth."

"You wouldn't have said that a few months ago," I say, but immediately regret it. We're just looking at each other now. I sigh and take a seat on my mattress, my eyes again on the floor.

Peeta decides it's alright for him to approach my bed and sit next to me. He must notice how uncomfortable I look before he says, "Katniss, I'm trying so hard."

I nod. "I know."

"I don't think I'll ever be the same."

I nod again. What else can I say?

I cast a furtive glance in his direction. He's frowning.

"I know how to sense a flashback coming on. I know when I'm about to lose control. I'll tell you, so you'll always have time to leave until it's over."

I take a chance at lightening the mood. "Are you assuming we'll be spending time together, then?"

For a second, I see the hurt in his eyes. It disappears in an instant. He shrugs.

"Peeta, I'm kidding," I say. "I need you around. I-I can't live without you."

He doesn't look convinced. I remember Gale's words to him.

"_Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can't survive without."_

"You do believe me, don't you?" I ask.

He sighs. "Katniss..."

I remain quiet, waiting for him to continue. He doesn't.

"Why are you here, anyway?" I question, suddenly feeling angry. "If you don't trust me, why did you care to come looking for me?"

"I never said I didn't trust you."

"Well, do you?"

"Mostly."

I don't know what the look on my face says, but he doesn't seem comfortable. He changes the subject. "Have you gone hunting?"

"I haven't left this house."

He presses his lips into a line, as if he's deep in thought for a few seconds. "I'll go with you, if you want."

In my mind, I shout "no." Hunting is something between me and Gale. The forest is our personal sanctuary. Even though he's gone and probably never coming back, that's our place to share. And Peeta's leg and hunting just don't mix. I don't even want to be alone with Peeta and weapons, to be honest. The combination can put both our lives at risk, and we've had enough of that for centuries.

"Not today," I reply. "I don't feel up to it."

He looks crestfallen. It's silent. His face is masked by anger.

"Because you're scared?" he asks in a sharp tone. It catches me off guard. "You're scared of me, Katniss?"

I don't know whether to scoff in protest or stay calm. I hate questioning my actions when I'm around him. "Scared of you? No. I'm terrified of what the Capitol did to you."

"I told you I'm doing everything I can to fix this!" He sighs frustratedly before quickly composing himself. "I'm still the same person, Katniss. I'm just.. I'm.."

"Broken," I finish quietly for him. "You're broken, but not gone."

He sighs again. "Right."

We make direct eye contact for what seems to be the first time in ages, but it's only been a few minutes.

Then, he speaks.

"I'm sorry about Prim."

"Me too."

"You cared about her more than anyone else. Real or not real?"

"Real. Can we talk about something else?" I inquire as politely as possible.

He nods.

We sit in silence for a long time, our eyes flitting to and from each other. After a while, he stands up and wordlessly starts walking out of my room.

"Where are you going?" I ask curiously, standing up too. He stops walking.

"Home."

"Why?"

"I'm tired."

The fact that he was willingly leaving without a word bothers me a bit, but I brush away those negative feelings before I even have the chance to realize, yes, I am still human, and yes, I can feel.

"Do you still have nightmares?" I ask.

"Yes. You have them too." It's not a question.

I nod hastily. "Yeah, but, you know, it's no big deal. I get over them fairly quickly."

He's gazing at me, and I start to feel analyzed. I can't help but wonder what he's thinking, but before I have a chance to ask, he says, "Mine still involve you. Protecting you. Trying not to lose you. Sometimes you slip from my fingers and I wake up and can't get back to sleep. Apparently my subconscious doesn't want to see you suffer when I'm in that state of rest.

"It's like everything from before the Capitol ruined me is still buried in the back of my mind. Memories from the games come back to haunt me in my dreams, too. You're almost always decent in them, so I know they're real... But you loving me was not. It wasn't ever real."

We stare at each other in a heavy silence. I know he's waiting for me to say something.

I think for a while, choosing my words carefully before I speak.

"Yes, I might have pretended back then. But if I told you what I feel for you in this moment is real, what would you say?"

He laughs. A genuine laugh. A Peeta laugh.

"I would say you're lying."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Peeta, Peeta, Peeta. Anyway - did you like it? Did you hate it? Enlighten me! Also, yes - I am aware that Katniss is a tad out of character. SORRY. I'll work on that!  
For now, this is a oneshot, depending on the feedback. I started a second chapter but I have no idea whether I should continue. There are a ton of post Mockingjay fics and I don't know where I'm going with this. We'll see. Do _you _think I should continue?

Reviews are much appreciated! x


End file.
